


Grim Grinning Oglogoths

by Eisenhower



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bad end, Biting, Bloodplay, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Mind Break, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, POV Male Character, POV Second Person, Pegging, Rough Sex, Scratching, Tentacles, not that bad though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenhower/pseuds/Eisenhower
Summary: Rose invites you on a spooky Halloween date to a haunted house in the country. Together, you read from the Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious. Something answers your call.





	Grim Grinning Oglogoths

There are a few ways you imagined your first post-move-out college Halloween could go. Maybe you’ll go to a late night costume party and get completely fucking hammered while dressed as some pop culture abomination. Maybe you’ll make some cool new friends and spend a few hours trick-or-treating and playing pranks around campus. Maybe neither of these things happen and you’ll spend the whole weekend alone in your dorm room playing video games and jerking off. You certainly didn’t expect to be spending the night in a “haunted” house two hours north of Boston with the cute girl from your Ancient Languages 101 class.

Rose Lalonde, is, to put it bluntly, miles out of your league. Smart, pretty, wealthy, thick - with two c’s, like, holy _shit_ \- it’s a wonder she’s even willing to look in your direction without reeling in disgust. And, yet, every Tuesday morning she takes a seat next to you in a dingy lecture hall and smiles at the terrible jokes you make. You’ve never really considered yourself particularly charismatic or outgoing, but spending even a couple of hours once a week with someone who enjoys your company is doing wonders for your self-esteem.

Earlier in the week, Rose had asked you about your Halloween plans (none, unfortunately) and if you would like to do something together over the holiday weekend (absolutely). She mentioned, nonchalantly, that her family owned a few acres of land upstate - and that on that land was a very big, very spooky old manor that had been abandoned for at least fifty years.

“What would we even do all night?” you had mused to her.

“Oh, the usual things that mischievous young adults like us tend to get into. Trespassing, destruction of private property, breaking curfew, sodomy, seances and other illegal acts of witchcraft”

You had nearly spit coffee over the couple in front of you. “What, uh, what was that middle one?”

“Oh, seances?” she smiled, knowing full well what she had said. “I, of course, own a very old ouija board as well as a few pieces of miscellaneous supernatural bibliographae. I think it would be quite a lot of fun to read from the books, maybe summon an otherworldly being to do our bidding. To stick our hands in the metaphorical hat and see if we can’t pull out some slavering Lovecraftian hellrabbit.”

“And maybe a little sodomy, too.” she had said with a wink.

* * *

“So, uhhhhh,” you say, trying not to stare Rose’s ass swaying in front of you as the two of you climb a dusty staircase, “what exactly is it we’re going to be doing here?”

She pats a satchel-purse-bag slung over her shoulder.. “I have a few...interesting things we could entertain ourselves with this evening. But first we must find a suitably macabre setting. Preferably a room with some chairs and a sturdy surface that won’t collapse on us.”

Your mind wanders, fantasizing about what manner of late night frivolities you and Rose could get up to. You almost don’t notice her leave your side and wander into a room off the main hall. You follow her into what seems to have been...an art gallery, maybe? The walls of the high-ceiling-ed room are littered with oil paintings of every type imaginable: portraits, landscapes, architecture, bowls of fruit, gaudy, faux-renaissance horseshit. You get so lost in the ancient art that you lose track of Rose for real this time.

“Rose?” you poke your head back out into the hallway and call out. “Uhhh, Rose?”

There is no response. You strain your ears on the off chance you could maybe hear footsteps, or the creaking of floorboards, but no such luck. Shit. You call out again, a little louder, with no panic in your voice whatsoever. Your answer is the sound of your own heart beating in the dead of night...and then shuffling above you. Surely she didn’t make it all the way to the third floor so fast? You very calmly make your way back to the staircase. You definitely do not get lost on the way. You do not start sweating as you climb the stairs. You are not afraid of finding an axe murderer or a ghost or vampire or anything like that. Your hand is certainly not shaking so hard that you can’t keep the flashlight straight as your eyes dart around, searching for traces of your lost friend.

And you, without a doubt, do not let loose a shrill, earsplitting shriek as Rose flings a weathered door open with a soft _boo_. 

You fall to the floor, wheezing and clutching at your chest - christ, your heart is beating a million miles a minute. Rose stands above you, hand over her mouth, barely suppressing a wry smile.

“Fucking shit, Rose. God. _Why_.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to see what you look like when you’re scared.”

“Wow, wow! That is a perfectly normal thing to say! And what’s the prognosis, doc? What do I look like when I’m scared? Was my dread shriek sweet like honey or or or something like that?” You wave your hands for emphasis and she offers you one of hers.

“Goodness, what a drama queen. For your information, you are extraordinarily cute when you’re scared. More so than usual, if I’m being honest.”

You take Rose’s hand, but rather than helping yourself up, you use the leverage to tug her down to you. She yelps in shock but is silenced when you pull her right into your lips. You feel a muffled grunt of surprise that quickly fades as she sinks into the kiss. Your tongues flick against one another, lips are nipped at, fingers run through hair. Far too soon, she pulls away, kneeling back on the dusty floor.

“So forward. Had I known such things were on your mind I would have suggested we stay in for Halloween instead. ‘Netflix and chill’ as I believe our generation calls it.” You can tell Rose is trying to maintain her composure, her air of control, but you can see color creeping up her cheeks.

“What? Nah, no way. Who wants to stay in on Halloween instead of exploring a genuine haunted house all night? And with a cute girl, no less.”

“As good a date as any, I suppose.”

The two of you pull yourselves to your feet and Rose guides to into the room she came from. It’s surprisingly bright, owing in large part to the moonlight streaming in from a massive double window. It looks to have been the master bedroom, you’d guess. A large, four poster bed lies sadly at one end of the room, collapsed nightstands on either side. Rose is busy setting up waxy black candles atop a massive, carved wooden table. It’s in surprisingly good condition, given the state of the rest of the room. Can’t knock this boy over with a pail of water.

Rose hands you a thick, crude-looking black book. “Hold on to this for a second. Please do not drop it.”

You flip it around to read the cover, and...yeah, you sure as shit cannot read whatever language this is written in. It almost looks like upside-down daedric, but that would be incredibly silly. You flip through the pages with just as much luck. Lots of weird symbols and characters, rough ink drawings of multi-armed monsters, margins thick with scribbled, arcane handwriting. Rose, having apparently finished with her preparations, beckons for the book back.

“What is this? New edition of the Monster Manual?”

“Surprisingly close, actually. It’s called the Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious -”

“That’s a fuckin’ mouthful.” you interject. Rose glares.

“- And it’s what we’ll be entertaining ourselves with this evening, since you stuck your nose up at a perfectly good ouija opportunity.”

“Yeah, well, ouija boards are fakey fake bullshit. And as cool as this looks, it’s probably bullshit too. Besides, I can think of a few other things we could pass the time with, can’t you?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

Rose is unamused at your attempts to be suave, and continues her explanation. “We’re going to perform a short ritual that, if all goes well, will rip a hole in the very fabric of space, time, and our meager understanding of reality, and invite upon ourselves the presence of an old god who has long slumbered in the shadow of a distant star.”

“Very Lovecraftian.”

Rose snorts. “Yes, well, dear old Howard would shit himself if he saw what we were going to be summoning tonight.”

She presses her thumb to the spine of the large book, and two massive metal spikes pop out. They almost look like bizarre knitting needles. She places the open Grimoire down on the table and takes one needle for herself before pressing the other to your chest.

“Here, take this. Cut your palm with it.”

“Woah, what? What the fuck?” Before you can properly react, she’s already done her part and is clenching her fist as she scribbles in the open book in gruesome, red ink.

“Hey, I don’t, uh, I don’t know how great an idea this is? Gouging myself with these fuckin’...antique needles? In this dusty, rotting house, no less.”

“For god’s sake, don’t be such a little bitch.”

You make a face, squeeze your eyes shut, look away and do the terrible deed. It slices through your hand with unnatural sharpness, leaving a painful gash. Rose takes the needle back and writes your name in the book next to hers.

“That looks...extremely ominous.”

“I thought you said this was all fakey fake bullshit? Are you having second thoughts?” She raises her eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance. I ain’t afraid of no, uh, extra-dimensional fuckgods. What next?”

She motions for you to stand across from her, on the other side of the table. She lights the candles on either side of the book, takes your hands in hers, and begins to read aloud.

_Etad’bh ni eth fo eth nomo n’da rssat ew lacl ot he’et._

You still cannot remotely recognize the language in that book, even when spoken out loud. It’s harsh and guttural, a mismatched cacophonous mess of consonants and vowels.

_Na r’ginfefo fo lod’bo fi ti eleaps eth l’do oen Oglogoth._

You’re actually getting a headache listening to it, which is kind of concerning.

_Na r’ginfefo fo els’fh fi ti eleaps eth l’do oen Oglogoth._

You wince. It feels like someone’s digging into your skull with a corkscrew and trying to pop the top off.

“Uh, Rose…?”

_A lgiw’nil vleses rof uoy ot ak’te. A llg’niwi orod otni oru rl’tyaei._

“Oh fuck. Oh, _fuck_.”

Rose’s eyes have turned a pale, milky white. You think it’s just about time for these shenanigans to stop. You tug on her arm. She does not respond, lost in her chanting.

_Ew rae r’eeh n’da iillngw. Uoy aym eus su sa uoy ese f’ti. Uoy aym eus su. Uoy aym eus su._

She begins to pull away from you, and for a moment you think she may be stepping away from the table. To your horror, however, she starts to...float, to lift into the air. Her arms go slack, and try as you might to pull her down, she keeps rising to nearly five feet off the ground.

_Uoy aym eus su. Uoy aym eus su. Uoy aym eus su. Uoy aym eus su. Uoy aym eus su._

If you weren’t panicking before, you sure fucking are now. You are woefully ill-prepared for eldritch horseshittery of this magnitude. The wind outside is howling, rattling the windows like a madman intent on breaking in. The whole house creaks and rumbles under your feet and you just know this is how you’re going to die, buried under a pile of rotting rubble as the decrepit old manor collapses on you. You crouch, huddled, and cover your head with your arms.

_eus su eus su eus su eus su eus su eu**s su eus su eus su OGLOGOTH**_

Just as the supernatural harshnoise reaches its peak, just as you swear you hear the breaking of glass and the snapping of floorboards, it stops. You raise your head to survey the scene and some wave of force erupts from the center of the room, knocking you backward. You slam your head into the wall and white out for a few seconds. Once your head stops ringing, you pull yourself to your feet and look around for Rose. She’s not floating above the table anymore, which is good. But you can see some limbs sticking out from behind said table, which is bad. You creep across the room, afraid of what you’ll find, and...wow, yeah, that’s _really_ fucking bad. Her skin is a dusty gray and her hair a blank white, like someone sucked all the color out of her and turned up the saturation. It almost looks like she’s got some kind of aura surrounding her, curling around her like wisps of grey steam. The scene grim, with an unpleasant darkness. Dreadfully dark. Horribly grim.

If only there were a word for such things.

You reach out and touch her arm and she’s ice cold. Oh, god, is she dead? Is she fucking dead? Did you just touch a dead body? Are your fingerprints on a dead fucking body? Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. You jostle her a bit, hoping she might just be sleeping.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit shit, shit. Rose? Rose, come on. Please don’t be dead.”

You raise your hand to her face to check for a pulse, and her eyes shoot open. This sort of thing wouldn’t startle you ordinarily but her eyes are shining like fog lights, glowing with an eerie shimmer.

“Oh-oh my god. Rose? Are you, uh. Are you okay?”

She stands up, but. Not really? Her movements are bizarre, she’s not standing up so much as laying down in reverse. You take a few steps back, unsure if you really want to be this close to her. Rose arises, floating an inch or so above the ground, and nonchalantly straightens her skirt and fixes her messy hair.

**L’lwe. Hta’t s’wa ont erylna sa d’ba sa i s’wa cigtenexp.** she says, smiling at you. She’s still speaking that awful language from that awful book, and hearing it feels like someone jamming a rusty spike straight into your ears.

“Wh. What? Jesus, can you stop that?”

**P’sot atwh?**

Another pang of discomfort. “Rose, please. Please stop gibbering in this weirdo fucking demon language. It is causing me literal pain.”

**L’lwe, rsf’ti fof ti si t’no eosm “iedrow gc’nfiuk oednm g’lneaau.”**

“Oh my god.”

**Ti si h’te gotneu fo na eitacnn d’go n’gol th’thgou ot eb eadd. **

“Rose, can you please fucking listen.”

**Ti si rnnsuspiriug at’th ti cuaess uoy m’hra, ohhtug,** she continues, caring not for your suffering.

“Rose _fucking_ Lalonde, I swear to god.” You’re losing your patience, to be honest. You slam your hands against your ears, desperate to block out the terrible sound, the terrible pain.

**sa ti s’wa t’no ryeall ntema ot eb aedhr yb h’te eedntr asre fo rlstamo klei uoy n’da I.**

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” you scream. Your brain is practically turning to goo and still she keeps rambling on in that fucking razor tongue. “Shut up shut up shut up shut-”

Something slams into your chest, hard, and once again you’re sent flying back into the wall. Something slips around your neck, thick and powerful, like some invisible python, and holds you a few feet off the ground. Rose floats before you, arm raised. There’s a terrible fury in her eyes as she looks down upon you like one would a particularly disgusting insect.

“Rose, what-” you struggle to speak. Whatever’s around your neck is painfully tight, and won’t budge no matter how hard you push against it. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

**So rude.** Her lips don’t move, but you still hear her voice, cold and low, bouncing around your head. There’s a strange echo, a reverberation to it, as though you were hearing multiple Roses talk at once. **The first mortal being to hear the Olde Tongue in over a thousand years and yet you think only of your own fleeting discomfort. Such disrespect will not be tolerated.**

Your eyes dart around the room, desperately seeking...something, anything. Some way to escape. Your heart is pounding and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, to focus.

“Please,” you cough, “Rose, please. You’re hurting me. Whatever it is I’m sorry. Please.”

Her face softens. She pulls her arm back, and, thankfully, whatever was around your neck disappears.

**I apologize for the...rough treatment, but I cannot run the risk of allowing you to escape. We have so much to do tonight, and precious little time.**

“Precious...what? Rose, this isn’t funny anymore. I’m not having a good time. I’d like to go home now, please.” You shoot a nervous glance at the open door. Maybe you could make it…?

She appears in front of you with blinding, supernatural speed, almost instantaneously. 

**I have been granted a gift. _We_ have been granted a gift. Oglogoth, in his ancient wisdom, has seen fit to grant me a great boon. Power indescribable rests at my fingertips. All he asks in return is...a small offering. A pittance, really.**

“And, uh, just what is that?”

**A servant, eternal. How fortunate that I had the foresight to bring you here this evening. You will become his vassal, _my_ vassal. Hand in hand we will walk through the gates of eternity while the last vestiges of civilization fall to ruin around us. It will be much more romantic than it sounds, I assure you.**

“...what the fuck. What does any of that even mean?”

**You need not concern yourself with such menial details. I will handle everything.** She raises a hand and brushes at your hair. You cringe slightly at her icy touch. **Such sweet fear in your eyes. You really are very cute when you are afraid. A little rabbit, well aware that the jaws of the wolf are closing in.**

And close the jaws do. Rose leans in and kisses you, and you're too afraid to run. Its cold and unpleasant, especially compared to your much nicer kiss earlier in the evening. You squirm and shake your head. 

“Rose, please.”

She presses a finger to your lips. **It will be alright.**

You feel something cold crawling against your skin again. You look down and are horrified to find tentacles, ropes of seething darkness, crawling from the shadows of the room and wrapping around your legs. More of them come from dark corners of the ceiling, binding your arms and pulling them apart. You’re then lifted several feet into the air and held there, helpless, a rabbit on a dissection table.

Rose steps back, raising her arms and allowing the same shadowy appendages to strip her. Her plain black sweater is removed and unceremoniously tossed to the corner of the room, revealing a lacy black and purple brassiere. Her long skirt follows, and then you see a pair of panties in the same color and style. A matching set. Had this night gone a little differently it might have been very romantic. She raises a hand, pressing it to your cheek in a profane mockery of fondness. You try to flinch away from her touch, but there’s nowhere to go. She smiles.

**Do not worry. I will show you there is nothing to be afraid of.**

A fresh wave of smoke pours over you, coalescing into hard tentacles. They slide down your neck, into your clothing; their touch is repulsive, cold and slick. _hold me down_ You feel tugging at the hem of your shirt as its lifted, exposing your bare chest to the cool night air. The tentacles soon retract and Rose’s hands take their place. Her touch is uncomfortably gentle as she runs her fingers across you, caressing, poking, prodding. She stops for a moment, holding her hand over your heart, feeling its frantic beating. _love you i love you i love you_

**So nervous.**

Rose kisses the crook of your neck _please kiss me_, lips like ice, while her nails trace circles down your chest, lower, lower still.

"Wait, please wait-" you whine, but she presses a finger to your lips once more.

**I will be gentle. I promise.**

If you could, you would have tried to jerk away from the wisps of shadow she summons, you'd try to fight back as your belt is undone and your pants pulled down. But you can't see and you can't fight back, you can only try to keep yourself quiet as her cold fingers tug the waistband of your boxers down and close around your shamefully erect cock. _god finally_ Her smile widens to a malicious sneer.

**Oh? Maybe you are not as afraid as you seem. How curious.**

“No, that’s - you’re doing that, it’s not me. I’m not -”

You shake your head, but you can’t shake the whispers. They warp your thoughts, twist through your mind like weeds through cracked stone. She strokes you once, slowly. _yes_ Your hips buck in return, straining against the dark ropes that bind you. _please more please please_

**What a vile little man. Faced with horrors beyond your comprehension, and rather than fight or flight, your reaction is that of arousal.**

Her hand quickens, jerking you off at a steady pace. Her motions are soon accompanied by a soft, rhythmic shlk-shlk-shlk as her hand becomes slick with precum. Pleased with herself, she returns to your neck - nipping at your soft flesh, kissing you, smearing that jet black lipstick all over. _mark me mark me_ She rolls through you like cold fog, touching you everyone at once. You feel breath on the back of your neck and lips brushing at your ears, whispering of impossible colors. She claws at your back and digs her nails into your chest and presses her teeth to your throat; a gentle, loving reminder that she could snuff you out like a match any time she wanted. Cool, soft hands stroke and squeeze at your aching cock, but how can that be when both her hands are exploring your back? You crane your neck and what you find horrifies you - a thick, purple tentacle, cool and wet, thick as a rope, like some monstrous worm, has coiled around your erect penis and busied itself with mimicking Rose’s prior hand movements. You keep trying to jerk away, keep trying to fight back or escape or something, anything, but you aren’t strong enough - body or mind - to break your fel bonds. It’s excreting some kind of terrible black slime as it squeezes and strokes you, tingling and burning and you swear your dick is starting to swell a little.

**So disgusting.**

Her whispering is so soft you can barely hear her. You stifle a groan as she twirls a finger, commanding the tentacle to tighten.

**Touched by the flesh of an inhuman terror, fit to burst already. I wonder what it will take to push you over the edge.**

She snaps her fingers and another fleshy tentacle appears and loosely wraps itself around your ballsack.

“Wait, wait, no!” 

**Oh? Do you not want to be touched in this manner? That’s certainly not what it looks like to me.**

The tentacles move in tandem, pulling and squeezing and hurting but it’s _such_ a good hurt. Rose nuzzles her face into your shoulder, kissing you between maddening, encouraging whispers. You can hear your own betrayal, quick moans and sharp breaths, eyes losing focus. Your whole groin is now absolutely slick with precum and that...stuff. Those weird inky secretions. Your skin tingles and burns, but it’s a pleasant burn. You’re reminded of licking cinnamon gum wrappers and sticking them to your forehead as a child. Except, you know, now it’s Cthluluslime on your dick. Rose embraces you, wrapping her arms around your chest as the tentacles continue to defile you. She digs her nails into you, harder than before. You’re sure it won’t be much longer before she draws blood. _good_

**Are you enjoying yourself?**

You groan in response, refusing to answer. _yes_

**Of course you are. You can lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me. I can smell the desire on you, the lust. All of these pathetic little moans and cries are not those of pain, but of pleasure. You want so badly to be ravaged, to be _hurt_. You’re nothing but a sad, submissive little boy waiting for a monster to make him into a meal.**

“That’s...no.” _yes it's true i want it so bad please_

Her eyes are wild now, shimmering with harsh light, and her smile is wide and manic. She sees right through you - you’ve spilled blood in the water, and you’re terrified at the thought of what is to come. She’s kissing your neck again, biting you in a frenzy. _yes please yes hurt me god Rose_

**God, I can almost taste it on you. I need to taste it, need it so badly. Do not worry. I will only hurt you a little.**

She bites you again, but this time it’s different. There’s almost no pressure at all, she just presses her teeth to your collarbone and breaks the skin as easily as you'd bite into a ripe peach. _yes YES_ You grit your teeth through the pain as her mouth immediately covers the bite, sucking at the raw flesh, lapping the blood away. _it hurts it hurts please more_ You hear a deep moan, almost a growl of satisfaction as Rose pulls away, the cold air stinging your open wound. She licks her lips as she meets your gaze, her tongue a deep, dark purple, almost black in the low light.

**Exquisite. You are so sweet, a cocktail of fear and desire. Just a little more.**

She grabs a handful of your hair and jerks your head back. She holds you there, neck exposed - not that you could go anywhere anyway. _never want to leave_ Her next bite is dead center in the middle of your throat, hard and deep. You cry out, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. Another low moan of approval rises from Rose as she drinks deep of you. The tentacles pump away at your dick. They are tireless, single-minded in following their orders. And you’re no less hard. In fact, much to your distress, you’re harder now than you were before, and you find yourself bucking your hips to match the movements of the alien appendages pleasuring you. Being treated the way you are - pushed around, slammed into walls, held in place, bit, bruised, bleeding, hurt, _used_ \- something’s clicked deep inside you and you ache, you need more. _she was right_ Rose rises, blood trickling from the sides of her mouth. She grins, a wild smile that shows off her red-stained teeth. A feral animal feasting on human flesh.

**Ah, but I am being selfish. Would you like to taste, too?**

You begin to protest - to what, you don’t know - but then her lips are on yours, clammy and slick. Rose presses her tongue into your mouth and you don’t have the will to try and stop it. You can taste the sharp, metallic tang of your own blood, and behind that, something else. Something salty, something dark. You wonder if this is what it would feel like to kiss a corpse that’s washed up on a shoreline somewhere. Her tongue pokes and prods, crawling over yours, pushing to the back of your mouth, and deeper...no, no, what the fuck? _oh god_ This is wrong, wrong wrong _wrong_, it shouldn’t be this long, it’s like a cold snake squirming down your throat, touching parts of you that should not be touched. _choke me fuck my throat_ You try to gag, to cough, anything, but something stops you. You strain against your bonds as best you can, but they may as well be made of steel. You feel Rose's tongue slowly retract, and you tell yourself it’s because she senses you fighting and is showing mercy. _please come back don’t stop_ Deep down, though, you know that’s not true at all. Her tongue finally leaves your mouth a full two seconds after her lips do, a wretched purple slug crawling back up her jaw. You break out into a coughing fit now that your throat is free, but you can’t shake the taste of blood and saltwater. _want more_

Rose presses against you, cold and smooth, smearing your blood across her chest. It stings, you’d flinch if you could. She leans in close, mouth on your ear, singing honeyed words of madness.

**Let’s go even farther. Doesn’t that sound fun?**

She kisses your cheek, then your chin, your neck. She stops to leave more hickeys, more black kiss marks, to peck at your fresh wounds. She continues her pilgrimage, further marking you as hers on her way. Some of your blood rubs off with the lipstick she smears on you, black and red against your pale skin. Your dick finally springs free of her grasp just as her face comes level with it.

**So hard. So eager.**

Her tongue flicks out of her mouth, snakelike, lapping up a heavy droplet of precum. The contact is electric and god it’s fucked up but you want more. _more more more_

**Aren’t you ashamed to be like this? So willing to throw away your humanity for a cosmic quickie? Sticking your dick in the fleshvessel of a timeless multidimensional horror is likely to have some interesting side effects. Bravery, stupidity, hormones...whatever it is, I admire it.**

Rose’s lips part, just barely, and that _fucking_ tongue crawls out again. She licks the tip of your dick before coiling her tongue around it all the way to the base. God, if it’s not the strangest thing you’ve ever felt but it’s absolutely incredible. And then she starts to move it. It squirms and flexes, sliding and rubbing against you. She eases into a sort of rhythm, a constant push-and-pull motion, milking your cock with her eldritch tongue. The noises you’re making are pathetic, you’re sure, but you can’t help yourself. Rose is watching, you - or at least you think she is, her blank, white eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. She tilts her head just so, studying you. Her tongue never stops, not even as she lowers her head and effortlessly takes your length into her mouth all at once, eyes glued to you the whole time. You feel her tongue uncoil once you’re inside - and then you scream. Something else takes over, something that feels like a dozen tongues all at once, smothering and undulating your flesh. It’s completely overwhelming and can barely hold yourself together.

Your moans become screams, incoherent and lustful until finally you reach your climax and you scream out Rose’s name. She retracts everything, wraps her lips around the head of your dick, and prepares. You feel suction, but you’ve had blowjobs before and they didn’t end like this. It’s deep, ethereally deep. As Rose eagerly swallows your cum it feels like she’s swallowing something else, something primordial. You feel a tug in your chest, but not in your physical chest. Like she’s taking a shred of your very essence from you. Finally she rips her head back from your groin, her breath ragged and labored.

**You gave...so much. So much. You are so very generous. I will take more later, but for now...let me give something to you.**

For the first time in what feels like hours, you move. Not of your own free will, however. Rose’s tentacles retain a very firm grip on you as you’re lifted from the wall and carried to a dilapidated, dusty bed across the room. The tentacles less-than-gracefully slam you onto your back, arms bound like a mock crucifixion as fresh tendrils wrap around your waist, ankles, and, worryingly, around your throat. _harder harder hold me down choke me_ Rose floats above you as she bends over midair and peels her undergarments off.

**Are you ready?**

You nod nervously. _please_

**Good boy.**

She lowers herself into your face. As soon as there’s contact, you eagerly flick your tongue out and take your first taste of Rose Lalonde, and it’s overwhelming. Rather than the typical musk, she tastes of fresh salt water, clean and sharp. There’s something deeper there, too, something unplaceable and _other_. It hits you and your mind starts to buzz, and all you can think is that you need more. You go into a frenzy, sucking and running your tongue over as much of her as you can. You take a long, flat swipe across her opening and as the tip of your tongue grazes her clit, you feel Rose jerk above you. Being perfectly honest, you’ve never really done this before so that is surely a sign that you aren’t completely fucking it up. You slip your tongue inside and feel her constrict around you as she bucks once against you, smearing her juices across your face. 

Briefly you wish you had a tongue like Rose does now, one you could thrash around inside of her like this. What you’re doing now is not enough, not even close. You want to do more, please her more, to drink deeply of her arousal. You want this more than you’ve ever wanted anything else in your entire life and you don’t spare a single second wondering why that is. That part of your brain is gone. Shut off. Above you, you can see Rose groping at one of her breasts, rolling a pitch-black nipple between her fingers.

**Yesssssssss. You are doing _ah_ such a wonderful job. Such a talented young man _ohhhh_ such a..._ut’lfhaif yel’tosrpe._**

****

She slips back into the broodfester tongue and your brain buzzes upon hearing the forbidden language but you’re so ecstatic you don’t even care. The whispers aren’t gone, just louder. Louder than your own thoughts now. You feel feverish. She says you’re good, you’re talented, you’re performing your duties so well. Your heart swells and you redouble your efforts. Rose is quickly losing her composure, however, no longer sitting still but instead haphazardly grinding her crotch across your entire face. The best you can do is flail your tongue like a madman and hope to taste her every time she brushes past you. It’s only a few seconds more before she firmly plants herself directly over your mouth, shuddering, howling. You’ve never considered that a scream could be in a different language but the noise coming from her is unearthly. It hurts to hear, it feels like someone shoved your skull in a blender and hit pulse, and then she’s climaxing, and screaming again, and you press your lips against her because you want to taste need to taste need need _need_ but what comes out is _wrong_. It’s thick and viscous and it tastes like what licking a battery feels like and there’s so much of it that you aren’t able to catch your breath. You desperately try to pull away, to taste fresh air, but Rose has woven her fingers into your hair and you can feel nails in your scalp and she holds you there, holds you still, forcing you to swallow. _can’t breathe gonna be sick_ Mouthful after mouthful of the stuff pours down your throat and you’ve lost track of how much there could possibly be, and just as your vision starts to swim, she’s off you and you can breathe again. 

You cough and sputter between deep, gulping breaths and by chance you look down at yourself, at your chest, and it’s. It’s strange. You’re covered in something thick and black, but not all black. It shimmers with phantasmal cosmic color, the color of the sun on a parking lot oil spill. You feel more of it dropping onto your face, and looking up you see Rose floating above you, legs askew, one hand over her forehead like she’s got a case of the fucking vapors. She takes a moment, but rather than calming down she seems to be working herself up even more. She does some weird aerial acrobatics, reorienting herself and plummeting to the bed, straddling your waist while her hands latch on to your wrists. The tentacles creep further up your arms and legs, a few thin wisps shooting up to wrap around your dick once more.

**I think we’ve had quite enough foreplay, don’t you?**

Her voice is calm, measured, but her face is manic, to say the least.

**There is no escape. No turning back now. You have heard the whispers of the furthest gods, felt their sharp caress. You have freely given me your mind and essence and I have generously repaid.**

She presses her cunt to your rigid member, slick and cold and wet. The tip slips in for the briefest moment and you nearly go cross eyed.

**There is precious little of you left. You are close, _so_ close. You will belong to me for the rest of your meager existence, you understand this? Bound completely to my will and my whims. A servant until death, until the last light in the night sky burns out.**

You nod excitedly. It feels like your entire body is vibrating. _no no NO_ Rose smiles, and the thin tendrils around your shaft constrict. She lowers herself, slowly, painfully slowly. She lets out a few satisfied little moans as she goes, punctuated by sharp, deep claws through your chest. stop please You cry out in pleasure every time she draws fresh blood from you. She takes about half of you then drops down, her ass slapping against your thighs as you bottom out. She rocks her hips gently, testing the waters, and you see stars. With a flick of her wrist, the tentacle around your neck springs into her hand. Rose tugs on it and it becomes so incredibly, wonderfully snug. You can still breathe, but it’s a joyful struggle. She leans back, holding tight to your leash for support, and begins to fuck herself on you. Slowly, at first, and every movement is sweet agony. You wish you had use of your hands. You wish you could touch her, dig your fingers into her ass, grab her hips and bounce her on your dick. If anything, her grip on you tightens as these thoughts flutter through your mind. 

Rose moves a little faster, filling the air with the wet sounds of sex. You glance up and see her head tilted back, her impossibly long tongue lolling out of her mouth as she uses you. You imagine if she had pupils they might be rolling up into her skull. Then, suddenly, she jerks forward, pulling you up to meet her by pulling hard on your neck-tentacle. You start to cry out in pain but she shuts you up with a chain of kisses. Her tongue slips into your mouth again, wrapping and curling around your own in a messy French kiss you happily return. Her mouth is cold against yours, and yet you feel so, so warm. Between that and the low buzzing in your head you almost feel pleasantly drunk. Rose pulls away with a smile, and now you’re the one left panting, eyes rolling, tongue hanging out.

**You make such an excellent toy. Just a little push and you’ve bent to my will so eagerly. And still I wonder,** she purrs, and you feel something cold and slick slide against your asshole, **if you can be _broken._**

It touches you again and your back arches. You feel that sweet, warm burning on your anus as a tentacle coats you in that stuff. It pokes and prods, not pushing inside of you yet, but making it known that it will do so very soon. Rose runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you more, whispering to you in the moments her lips are not on yours.

**I know you are still there. I feel you fighting, struggling against me. Thinking your body, mind, and soul can still be saved. Hoping there is some way you can escape. But you cannot. You are mine. _N’da eyt krae’dr ew l’wil og._**

Her words swim through your ears like the sweetest music. You aren’t really sure what she’s talking about. Why would you want to escape? Rose is so good to you, so loving. And, god, you love her so much. She knows just the right things to say and just where to touch you and god please use the tentacles Rose please fuck me please fuck me fuck me _fuck me fuck me FUCK ME._

**Only since you asked so nicely.**

Could she hear you? Were you speaking out loud? It doesn’t matter. You watch that sickly sweet grin crawl across her face at the same time a thick, undulating tendril pushes its way inside you. It’s gentle at first, exploratory. Rose must know that you’re..._untested_ in that particular area. Or were until just now, a thought which strikes you with delirious happiness. The first thrust shakes you from your thoughts, and the second nearly fries your brain. It writhes and squirms and god you had no idea it felt so good to be full, to be stretched. You arch your back as Rose buries her face in your neck again, nipping at your sore, bruised flesh. She starts to buck her hips into you not soon after, alternating between thrusting a tentacle into you and bouncing on your dick. She picks up speed and you do you best to match her, raising your hips to meet her, lowering to push against the tentacles. The rotting bed beneath you creaks, threatening to finally give out. A second tentacle joins the first, and you scream with pleasure. You’re stretched to the brim and there’s no pain at all, only bliss. They twirl together and push deeper, deeper, every thrust sending a wave of hot pleasure through your body. You feel an immense heat, a tightness, a need coalescing in your groin. It’s not long before Rose’s tempo becomes rough and erratic - you wonder if maybe there’s a tentacle or two giving her some attention as well. Her moans become grunts, her breathing turns ragged, black spittle runs from her mouth. She looks at you and licks her lips.

**I am. So very close. _Os esloc._ You have come so far tonight. You have sacrificed so much. It is only fitting that I return your kindness.**

Your face is starting to go numb, your eyesight blurry. She keeps slipping into cosmic whispers your mortal ears cannot comprehend without risk of insanity and those whispers are starting to stick and gunk up the pipes in your brain. You nod at Rose knowing you’ll slip away soon. Slip away...somewhere? You aren’t sure where.

**Give me your seed. Give me your life. _Ew l’wil eb f’tecert eergotht. I e’psromi._**

She cups your face in her hands for just a moment before leaning back again, fucking you with a proper frenzy. The tentacles pick up the pace and match her manic speed, splitting you open in perfect rhythm. Rose tightens the grim, spatial noose around your neck once more, cutting off airflow completely. You can no longer form real coherent thought. All that matters is here and now. One of the tentacles presses farther than before and touches on a particular bundle of nerves buried deep inside you. You stiffen and spasm like you’ve been electrocuted. Rose raises her free hand and crooks a finger. The tentacle inside you follows her movements and bumps again your prostate again. Your vision swims and you jerk your hips as hard as you can, desperately pushing to be touched again. Rose takes note of your struggles and looks down on you with a smile.

**_G’be, fi uoy n’ca._ I want to hear you beg me to touch you.**

You try. God, you try harder than you ever have in your life. Every time you open your mouth to speak, the tentacle around your throat tightens, and all you can manage is a strained moan or whimper. It tenses and slacks, giving you enough freedom to breathe but not much else. Rose laughs, a harsh sound that bounces around your skull like a bullet. She bends her finger and you feel a shock of pleasure as that little button inside of you is pressed. It continues, pushing into you like a piston over and over and over, relentless and untiring. You feel something swelling inside of you, feel that familiar wave of heat pouring through you. Rose stiffens, slams down on you, and then screams, breaking the world in half. The bed shakes, the candles blow out. You feel that thick, black slime rushing out of her, coating your waist and thighs. The tentacles must be excreting it too because your guts are swelling with something that burns you and makes you feel so _full_ that you cannot help but cum again, trying desperately to scream but only managing a faint, raspy cry. You feel faint, ethereal, and tired. So tired. So empty. Head swimming, the edges of your vision blur and darken. You drift away, but not before feeling Rose collapse onto your aching chest and hearing her murmur to you one last time.

** _Uro ernd’lchi ilwl eb os ulta’iebuf…_ **

* * *

You awaken some hours later, feeling like...well, like you fucking died. Everything aches. Your chest is torn and bloody, you have the worst headache you’ve ever felt, and there’s some black...stuff dried and crusted all over you. So much for pretending that was all some terrible fever dream slash nightmare. The room is dark, barely illuminated by the moon outside. It takes some time, but you manage to pull yourself to your feet. Your legs are wobbly and barely work, but you’re still able to make your way to your discarded pile of clothes. You dress and shuffle through your backpack. Your phone is, unfortunately, completely dead. Who would you even call? Who would you tell about this? Who would believe you? _Hey ma. Yeah, school’s great. Met a real cute girl and went on a Halloween date. She got possessed by a demon, fucked me like a tiger and ran me through with tentacles, it was rad._

As if.

You put the phone away and grab a granola bar, quickly shoveling it down as you clamber through the empty house and out to the driveway. Rose is unsurprisingly nowhere to be found. Which is fine, you think, as that’s not a morning-after conversation you’d like to have right now - or ever, for that matter.. You crawl into your shitty car and plug your phone into the cigarette lighter car charger. The screen hums to life, showing you a dead battery icon and a date: 02:44AM, 11/02. You were unconscious for a whole goddamn day. You groan in frustration before starting the car and tearing off down the road. You make it a few miles down the highway before a terrible pain wracks your stomach. You slam the breaks, veering to the shoulder before throwing the door open just in time to be sick all over the pavement. You were expecting mostly bile and maybe an undigested granola bar, but instead you spill jet black sludge all over the interstate, glittering ominously like stars in a cosmic mirror. That’s fuckin’ new. You wipe your mouth on your sleeve and get back on the road, desperate to block this whole debacle from your memory.

* * *

A few weeks pass. You haven't seen Rose since Halloween. She hasn't shown up to class nor made any attempt to contact you. And maybe that's the way you want it, since there's so much else on your plate at the moment. Your wounds heal slowly and leave deep, gnarled scars. You barely sleep anymore, and when you do you have nightmares, visions of being wrapped in hundreds of tentacles and dragged into the depths of a cold, dark lake. You have horrible, debilitating headaches - migraines that may as well be splitting your skull in two. You're sick constantly, clammy and feverish. You can't keep food down but when you vomit there's nothing but tasteless black bile. Your grades slip. You lose contact with your friends. And still you hear the whispers constantly, soft, hissing lamentations in a language you cannot understand.

One night, while lying in bed and nursing a headache, your phone buzzes at you.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering arrogantGlitch [AG] at 08:11 \-- 

TT: Hello.

Your heart does a weird little thing where it skips a beat and leaps at the same time. A chill runs up your spine, and yet you feel a strange warmth. A spark of joy from some dark corner of your mind you've been trying to push away. _Rose Rose Rose_ Do you answer? You probably should. 

TT: Really, the cold shoulder? I had pegged you as being more mature than that. Metaphorically speaking, that is. The pegging.  
TT: Although it is literal now as well, isn't it?  
AG: oh that's  
AG: FUCKING hilarious  
TT: I thought so, too.  
AG: you invite me on a date and put me through some weird eldritch mindbreak shit  
AG: then leave me for dead in an abandoned house a hundred miles from home  
AG: THEN disappear for like a month  
AG: and the first thing you do when you un-ghost yourself is brag that you tentaclefucked my ass  
AG: bravo  
TT: I hoped a little crude humor might lighten the mood. How have you been feeling?  
AG: oh you know same old same old  
AG: horrible nightmares, partially-scarred pustulent wounds, the grymme whisp’res of a mad god crawling through my skull like snakes  
AG: it’s fuckin delightful lemme tell you  
TT: As endearing as it is, the sarcasm is entirely unnecessary, especially considering I was going to offer to help you.

You’re shaking a bit as you commune with Rose. It’s a weird mix of genuine discomfort and an almost druglike giddiness, both fighting over who gets to be in charge of the meat puppet. 

AG: and just how are you going to help me?  
AG: you gonna unfuck my brain or something?  
TT: In a manner of speaking, yes. But perhaps this would be an easier conversation to have face to face. Would you like to meet up somewhere? Dinner, coffee? I know of a delightful little bistro a few blocks off campus that stays open late for students.  
AG: yeah nah  
AG: honestly  
AG: not really feeling up to it right now  
AG: i don’t think i’m uh  
AG: mentally prepared to see you again at the moment.  
AG: sorry. but not really.  
TT: …  
TT: That’s unfortunate. I was hoping this would be easy for both of us.

You’re in the midst of typing a response when you hear her, clear as crystal.

** _Meo’c ot em._ **

It’s been weeks and you’ve lost the resistance to that awful language you had built up over Halloween night, so hearing it “out loud” for the first time in so long brings you to your knees. You curl into the fetal position and slam your hands over your ears, desperate to block out the whispers.

“No, no, no, please, no, not again.” _she’s calling she wants me NO NO NO_

** _Ti liwi lla eb r’ghalti. Uoy dene y’nol ot meo’c ot em._ **

You try to fight but find yourself crawling to your feet, lurching towards the door. You have no idea where you’re going and no idea where Rose lives. _she will show me the way_ Something pulls you, guiding you, tugging you in the right direction. You sprint across the campus grounds like a bat out of hell, dodging pedestrians and cars alike. You approach an unfamiliar dormitory and manage to slip in as another student exits. _look at me LOOK AT ME I shouldn’t be here call someone please stop me_ You’re pulled up several flights of stairs, down half a dozen branching hallways. The closer you get the worse you feel, terror running through your veins like cold poison. The whispers get louder, from a gentle buzz to a harsh hiss, beckoning you to the point of no return. _close so close I feel her_ You slow to a stop outside an innocuous door. Fourth floor, room thirteen. An invisible string pulls your hand up and you knock on the door once, a solemn sound that echoes down the empty hall.

For a moment, you can hear nothing but your own ragged breath and the beating of your heart.

Then you hear a latch, a lock unturning. The door creaks open...and you see Rose. Just Rose. No tentacles, no ashen skin, no eyes like dying stars. Just Rose, standing there, pretty as ever, smiling at you. And then you’re smiling, too. Seeing her has lifted a terrible weight off your shoulders. You feel warm, clean. Energetic. Like the weeks without her were just a bad dream. You feel something wet on your cheeks. Tears? You take a step into Rose’s dorm and almost immediately fall to your knees again. You look up at her, beaming.

“Uh, hey. Hi.”

Rose continues to smile that beautiful smile. “Hello again.”

“This is kind of weird, huh?”

“Oh, just a little.”

She lowers herself to you and opens her arms. You gladly accept the invitation and embrace her, burying your face in her neck. She smells like cinnamon. You allow yourself to cry, just a little. Rose kisses your cheek and whispers to you, soft and warm,

**I said you would be mine forever.**  
**Didn’t I?**


End file.
